


Your Love Like The Tip of an Iceberg

by youkokurama



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bathtubs, Bickering, First Time, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youkokurama/pseuds/youkokurama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya's apparently misdirected attempt in being contrary as usual to Solo's methods backfires, and he is forced to face that irritating compulsion in him that he still could not name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Love Like The Tip of an Iceberg

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Mainly because BvS Cavill as Clark Kent half-stripping and getting into the bathtub still with clothes on is such a strikingly powerful and sexy and spontaneous image.
> 
> So this is my first dedication in the Man from UNCLE fandom (which is so amazingly wonderfully prolific btw, despite the film being about a year old or more. Damn must be how hot Henry & Armie are together). Could be kind of pwp and make no sense but well... Sorry for mistakes, no beta.

 

"I bet you could not even extract information without looking like that," Illya said off-handedly to Solo that one hot day in that cheap motel somewhere in Thailand, flipping through a dossier of their latest target with much vigor to at least get more air from whatever humid feeble attempt that electric desk fan on their small round table is giving.

"Like what, Peril? Like the usual alluring and refined gentleman that I am?" Solo huffed, not bothering to even glance at the blond KGB agent beside him who seemed to be just radiating too much heat, that he is just already itching to get away from if not for the fact that they have to share the sole desk fan's slight breeze. "Unlike _some people_ , of course, using love and peace is less messy and more preferable over the unnecessary brusque and barbaric methods that you seem to be so fond of ---"

"Kids," Gaby finally spoke up, irritated, what with all this humidity finally getting to her aside from her teammates' unending bickering, "if you keep on with that, I may just as well grab this fan and get myself my own room."

"Says he is 'alluring'. This might get us killed." Refusing to crumble as normal to Gaby's chastisement, Illya folded up the dossier, picked up another. He just had to get his important point across. "He showed his face all around too much the past months --- this might also get us killed."

"Illya may have a point, because you do look and behave the same mission after mission. I am kind of surprised that our enemies have not passed around a picture of you yet," Gaby said after a moment, looking up from her own folder to scrutinize Solo. Then her eyes widened slightly. "Actually, this may be an idea."

Solo frowned. "I see what you're getting at." He tosses his own copy of the dossier, quick as usual in absorbing all the details of their case. "Mr. Wattana Chandra, ex-art appraiser, now a forger for a wayward Nazi faction. So you're thinking that I also take advantage of his eye for hidden beauty by donning a disguise." He sighs, sprawling back into his seat. "Don't you think that might make me even more _obvious_?"

"A challenge too great for Cowboy, it seems," Illya chipped up dryly.

Solo just looked at him with a sweet smile. "Says the man who couldn't even act affection properly to save his and his eternal fiance's life."

Gaby ignores this latest attempt to swipe at Illya's temper. "It is a good opportunity to be more noticed and get nearer to the target. It may also be a good smokescreen if ever you do get found out."

Illya has to admit Gaby has come a long way in understanding the nuances of spywork. Solo looks to be equally fond of this as he answers, "Good cover for admitting that I'm actually here to convince him to sway him over to the side of the good guys. Still could bring about lots of unexpected and less pleasant scenarios, but I can improvise, as usual, so pretty good enough. You do understand that such slightly extended seduction could lengthen our already limited timetable, though?"

Illya tries his best to school his internal flinch at the word "seduction". He knew that in this spy business the honeypot is a mandatory skill, they had all been trained in it, and any self-respecting spy should be able to do it properly. _He_ actually can, but with his little tics of fury considered and seemingly general social awkwardness at most, he could grudgingly concede that Solo was the best one doing it. Scratch that --- the best _in the business_ , apparently, what with how Solo can get away with it until now despite his reputation at all continents, wielding his charm like a craftily hidden brutal knife.

But the way Solo said the word now seemed to imply something more, and a lot about the inclinations their target may have. It resurfaces Illya's growing internal dislike at the mere thought of the honeypot, and his dissatisfaction that even with U.N.C.L.E. this method is not dissuaded. It made him worried for them all, and maybe for this case for Solo. He is thinking it may just be because he couldn't understand how Solo could go about it easily and cheerfully like stealing, rare to no protest at all, regardless of the gender of the target and despite the current social norms, that he is starting to think something is wrong with the CIA agent.

Strangely, he finds himself reminded of his mother too.

Gaby seems to be used to it, as she just gives Solo her own version of a sweet smile --- still imperative. "I'm sure you can shorten the timetable."

"Is this so bothersome?" Just because Illya couldn't resist jabbing at the other agent and to distract himself from his opinion at the matter. This earns him another snide smile from the American.

"It never hurts to be realistic. Though I don't need to do it to steal, I don't mind having to wear a mask once in a while, just for the fun." Solo stands up, preparing to get started. "Thievery is an art, and I happen to be an artist myself. I bet Mr. Chandra and I would click sooner than you could blink."

 

 

"What do you think?"

Illya knew he was the one responsible for indirectly suggesting the whole idea of the disguise, but he felt strangely unprepared for the sight before him.

"You do look downgraded," Gaby appraised, looking up and down over Solo's appearance.

Illya must say that was an understatement. Solo had not really done anything extreme to his features like graft some fake skin or teeth or hair, but he did not bother shaving as usual today, stubble peppering his pale skin. His hair seemed to have not much of the usual product that slicks it back, letting dark slightly wavy hair curl down over his forehead and ears, further softening his angular face. Big dark rimmed glasses as his only accessory distracting from the blueness of his eyes. The usual tailored clothes scrapped for something a little baggy and general retail wear, just a white long shirt with tiny light blue snowflake patterns and crisp tan slacks held up by an old slightly fraying dark brown belt. One of Illya's well-worn belts, Illya dully noted.

Illya's chagrin at having his belt stolen and made to look bad like a costume couldn't distract himself from the sudden skip in his breathing he managed to catch.

Solo looked almost _innocent_ and out of place, and it is like even his whole aura was different that the whole effect with what little physical change he made was staggering.

"That's my belt," Illya said gruffly, for lack of anything to say.

"Sorry, just borrowing for a while. It kind of suits the whole image," Solo gave him a lopsided smile, not really sorry for being caught. Illya supposes that at this point he should be giving some biting comeback for this jab at his way of dressing, but he was strangely too tongue-tied. Thankfully, the American was so absorbed in perfecting his appearance, as he twists a bit to check himself at the whole length mirror behind him. "I can't decide if I should put on a vest?"

Illya does not know if it was the material of the cloth or the way Solo moved or just his familiarity with his partner's frame (being bunked together often could do that), but the bagginess of the clothes somehow couldn't hide much of the fact that there was a well-muscled man underneath. He kind of understood the whole point of the "image" now --- Solo had wanted to look something like a surprise gift to be unwrapped.

Illya's throat just went about dry at the thought.

Gaby hummed thoughtfully, "I don't know... it might be too much?"

"Maybe I'll just bring it along." Solo picked up a black vest intentionally color-mismatching with his dark brown scuffed shoes from the spread of clothing over the back of a loveseat.

"Your hair... should be more messy," Illya refused to be bogged down by his strange reactions to Solo's appearance.

Solo squinted at his reflection. "Isn't this enough?" He checked himself closer at the mirror again, hand coming up to tease up some wisps.

Illya, having decided that they are wasting time, stepped over and promptly ruffled Solo's hair a bit more with his big hands, causing Solo to yelp and duck away.

"What the hell! Peril! Now that's too much," Solo complained, attempted to smooth down some of the frizz the Russian caused. Illya just stubbornly glared at the reflection of the top of Solo's head in the mirror, only to realize after a split second that Solo was regarding him back with an expression that was almost like curiosity at the mirror as he fixed his hair.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, until Illya spotted the slight curling up at the side of Solo's lip. He tore his eyes away to stomp to the table where he laid out his listening devices.

He tried to ignore how he remembers the feel of Solo's hair in his hand, how soft it actually felt more than it looks, the very brief touch of their fingers when he just dove his hand through those dark waves.

"It's already late, Cowboy. Move faster."

 

  
Illya paced angrily what space their little motel room could offer. He should not have agreed to their current setup. Now Gaby was not yet here, already 3 hours past their agreed rendezvous time, and Solo was nowhere to be seen.

Gaby should have been the one manning the comms. And Solo... he had insisted that Illya fall back, saying that he was too tall, too pale and conspicuous among the crowd that he would just not be effective at following around their target.

That was about 40 hours ago.

It had been agreed that for all the weeks they had been here and Solo had worked the target, tonight was the extraction. But it had been hours...

Irritated, Illya strode towards his listening devices to doublecheck if he had missed any frequency. Just trust Solo to ditch his bugs again and go dark. There was just this little scratching noise coming from what he had designated as Solo's line, and he tried fiddling with the knobs again to attempt to clear it out.

He paused.

There was also some very faint tapping along with the scratches. At first Illya thought he's just being worried sick that he's already having some wishful thinking, but that faded when he began to make out a series of comprehensible letters.

Morse code. There seemed to be a street address he has to confirm from the map, and a short message. The apparent end of it made Illya's blood run cold.

_2 wvrly ppr asap gaby hurt_

He was already almost at the door when the room phone rang, making him jump and run back to grab it. "Hello?"

"Just go. Please," Solo's rasp came through the line, like he was whispering.

"What are you ---" The line suddenly went dead. Illya stared at the phone for a moment, willing that he hear Solo again, demand what really happened. Then he remembered Gaby, and that made him finally dash again for the door.

If he had suffered to stay a little longer, he would have heard the last two letters that scratched through the comm.

_c u_

 

 

He had retrieved Gaby from the location specified, looking worse for wear with all the bruises and scratches coupled with some strange greenish tinge on her skin. She pointed to a pocket in her overalls which has some of the documents they needed to extract, had managed to tell him she had been shot with some poison and need to be flown out immediately to have it counteracted before passing out.

Illya was shaking as he immediately contacted Waverly to request an airlift. It seems that they could not risk even showing their faces in the local hospital now.

Apparently Gaby was the one who had been recognized from their little trio, by one of Chandra's overseas associates. They put two and two together, and nabbed her during her getaway with the documents that Solo stole. Illya thought hysterically how could that be possible, and instantly thought that Solo may have screwed up again. It was only when Gaby woke up three days later from the U.N.C.L.E.-verified hospital in Hongkong that she scolds Illya for thinking so, as Solo had been the one who helped her escape with some of the documents Chandra took back from her.

As Chandra had hidden again the rest of the documents someplace else, of course Solo had to stay and continue working the case.

If Illya was actually prone to have heart attacks, he may have had it when he heard this from Gaby.

 _I'm not there. I should have been there. What if he._.. and he remembers the electric chair, all those times Solo somehow keeps getting captured and sometimes tortured, and he keeps thinking, and _thinking_ , even as he hovers at Gaby's bedside, holds her hand even when she woke up.

It all must have showed on his face, because it was not even two days after that Gaby woke up that she slapped his hand away, annoyed. "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be going back for Solo?"

Illya stares at her, confused. "I shouldn't leave you." And besides, it just would feel so wrong. It actually feels so wrong that he realizes that he's more worried for Solo now even when Gaby is right infront of him, so why should he even think about leaving?

"I'd rather not see you moping around like that. Besides, I'm being flown back to New York. Even safer."

He finds himself calling Waverly before their flight to ask permission to fly back to Thailand. He didn't know if he should be surprised, but Waverly told him to stand down and fly back to New York with Gaby.

"Trust him to finish this on his own time, Mr.Kuryakin. He had handled even worse cases than this. He will be back sooner enough."

That still didn't stop him from trashing the motel room before they left.

 

  
Backfire is such a bitch, as the Americans would say, especially when the effect is from his being contrary as usual to Solo's methods. Illya, as one who can actually utilize critical thinking despite his apparent reputation for being all brawn and havoc on poor furniture, finally surmises that is all caused by that irritating compulsion in him that he still could not name.

Illya is annoyed. Very annoyed. Because he could just imagine what his bosses and comrades in the KGB must be thinking of him now --- U.N.C.L.E. must be making him stupid.

But somehow, part of him didn't care about that anymore. This must be the only time that he actually felt this _restless_.

Because he is also starting to think that it's all his fault, and it is something he couldn't accept admitting.

It had been a month, and still no word from Solo. Even Gaby was casting worried glances at him by then.

Those glances did not feel like worry for Solo, however, but worry that Illya is going to snap anytime soon. That disturbed Illya somewhat.

By the end of that month though, he was ready to fly out quietly anyway, Waverly be damned, when he received communication that Solo is already on his way back.

Somehow the restless energy lessened a bit, but he was still tense, not knowing when exactly Solo would arrive, or if the American is even going back _alive or dead_. Else he feels his countenance is going to fail him, he doesn't react to the news as enthusiastically as Gaby does, preferring to lock himself quietly into the safehouse he and Solo shared for the moment and wait it out.

 

 

That must be how he was caught unaware, as the door to the bathroom suddenly swung open and he barely had time to grab his gun and move to a better position for shooting from the bathtub.

Solo had his jaw dropped open on even seeing him _inside_ the bathtub, as Illya is usually all puritan and efficiency by using merely the shower. Illya notices that Solo is still wearing his "disguise" for Chandra, even the black-rimmed glasses, which just adds some strange discomfort to his embarrassment of being caught partaking in something luxurious.

"Oh," Solo finally said after a moment, hands still raised in the universal sign of surrender, "Thought I was just hallucinating when I smelled all the sandalwood."

Illya flushed, putting down his gun to the side and relatching the safety. He had just been curious, and very much jumping out of his skin with all the nervous energy when he decided to bathe and found himself arranging all their toiletries more coherently earlier --- rather, Solo's toiletries, as 90% in the room was all of the capitalist decadence Solo indulges in. He tested one that he saw Solo pour into the bathtub once, and to his dismay it was so heavily viscous that trying to wash it off resulted in filling the tub up to the brim with frothy, albeit very fragrant soapy water.

He might as well use it, he had thought, as the scent instantly calmed him down quite significantly. Getting into the water though, he was hit with the remembrance that there were times that he had a faint whiff of the same scent from Solo's skin...

Now he was really uncomfortable, what with such inappropriate thoughts, that he made a move to get out of the bathtub. But Solo instantly stepped further in the bathroom, closing the door behind him and sitting on the side of the tub. "No, no, no. You can stay. Goodness, Peril, you need to relax once in a while," he sighed, quickly stripping away the necktie loosely hung around his neck, then taking a deep breath with his eyes closed as he tipped his head and spine back to stretch.

Illya tried not to watch the action. He pulled up his knees a bit, thinking modesty, until he remembered that the suds may be hiding the rest of him anyway. "Why are you saying you think you're hallucinating?" He suddenly looked suspiciously at Solo. "Are you high?"

Solo barked out a short sharp laugh at that. "Oh, no, not at all, Peril. Our clinic actually cleared me earlier." He smiled down cheekily at Illya. "Were you worried about me?"

"No," Illya promptly answered, and Solo laughed again at that.

He quieted down a bit after, looking down and fiddling with the necktie at his hands. "I was worried, you know. About you and Gaby. Good to see you're back okay."

Illya's heart seemed to beat faster at that, but then Solo's expression turned into a scowl when he looked at him again. "Next time decode the Morse code faster, will you? I had to do it three times..."

Illya answered back with an annoyed glare of his own, "Next time make your Morse code clearer. How was I supposed to know it is you when all I hear is static?"

Solo wearily rubbed his hand down his face. "I can't. Chandra was practically breathing down my neck. It's good I even managed to find Gaby and send her off."

"You did not even contact us."

"I just said why, didn't I?" Solo frowned, though his voice came out tired. "To think of it, Chandra may have found out about me near the end..."

"You did get the rest of the papers though?" Illya asked gruffly, not wanting to think about why Chandra could possibly keep Solo around if that was the case.

"But of course. I do finish my cases cleanly," Solo said smugly.

"Still took you long. A _month_."

"The bastard hid it again somewhere else deeper, what could I do? But not to worry, I made sure there won't be any more hiding places after I accidentally left his house burning." He gave out a dramatic sigh. "Pity though I wasn't able to rescue some of those nice Buddhist scrolls."

"Is stealing pretty things all you think about?" Illya deadpanned, and Solo just squinted at him sideways with a little smile on his lips.

"Not really." Solo suddenly stood up, kicked off his shoes to the opposite wall and then promptly just climbed into the bathtub fully clothed and all.

"What the hell are you doing, Cowboy?" Illya may have yelped indignantly, his thigh nearly crushed by the other's foot as he was crowded back to the other end of the bathtub, both of them splashing water all over the floor as Solo towered over him. And who was now stripping off that mismatched black vest.

"Conserving water," Solo said simply, throwing away the vest and bending down to lower himself further. At a certain point he seemed to hurtle forward fast, splashing a great amount of water randomly around and out of the tub. Illya caught his breath and just backed up a little more to avoid the other man from completely toppling over him, but Solo seemed to catch his balance by gripping quickly at the sides of the tub near Illya's shoulders. "Wow, you sure put a lot of soap in here, it's so slippery."

"This is ridiculous," Illya said exasperated, shifting to try to get out again, starting from trying to slip his long thigh from underneath Solo's legs. Two grown men in a bathtub is ridiculous, not to mention the other one is still fully clothed and forcing himself to fit in the same space is just too much. Solo pushed him back down though by clutching at his shoulder.

"I said you could stay. Besides," he pointedly looked down at the water to the general direction of Illya's hips, "it seems you have some problem you need to take care of first."

Illya reddened. He didn't think that Solo actually sensed that he was half-hard, and he didn't really want to think why his body is having that kind of reaction. "The water is getting cold," he gritted, and it was so illogical that they both know lying just made it worse. The water was as lukewarm as freshly cooled hot water.

Solo just stretched up a bit and reached for something above Illya. "I believe _this_ is cold." And ice cold water sprayed down without warning over Illya's head.

"You ---!" Illya sputtered, grabbing blindly above him to twist away Solo's hand holding the showerhead to somewhere that wouldn't shock him again. Solo was laughing so hard, the bastard.

"You look like a wet chick, it's so cute!" Solo laughed, that hand deftly sliding out of Illya's grasp and flipping off the showerhead as he went, letting it plop down the water before grasping Illya's other shoulder to steady himself. Illya indignantly pushed up the short strands matted at his forehead to make Solo stop. "Hey, Peril. It's not stealing if I ask for something, right?"

"What kind of stupid question is that." Illya tried to squirm away and off the tub again, never mind the stupid hard on, but Solo continued pinning him down seemingly with his full weight at his hands, eye shining with mirth and something akin to fondness as he looked down at him.

"Can I kiss you then?"

Illya's traitorous heart suddenly skipped a beat at that again, before proceeding into a quite painful drumming against his chest. "I'm not your mark, Solo," he hissed. Solo may just have hit his head hard or something and the doctors at the clinic may just have missed it.

"I know," Solo answered, quite somberly. "You are my partner, and I do think I'm about to screw things royally up but I am just so relieved to see you."

Illya narrowed his eyes up at the other. "Did something else happen?"

Solo shook his head, and for a moment Illya thought he saw something flit across those blue eyes before it disappeared, now looking expectantly at his own with a hint of trepidation. "Please?"

This is stupid. So stupid. And Illya cannot believe this is all happening and is even letting this happen, but something is just crumbling within him as he saw the expression on the American's face change into something like doubt the longer he kept quiet. "Alright," he grumbled, letting himself think that it's just like trying to appease a child and no doubt Solo is just acting and won't really do it anyway, "But I kno ---"

And Solo kissed him. Hard. And hungrily, he might add, those black-rimmed glasses pressing annoyingly against his face, that the whole action just made him forget to breathe and think and remember why he is even still here at the bathtub with Solo. And maybe even kiss back.

It seemed too quick, and Illya just about forgot to breathe again when he looked back up past those black frames into those blue eyes whose pupils were now so blown as they stared down at him. Illya wondered then if he was looking like that right now as well, somehow feeling so stunned.

Then Solo's eyes fell away from his, looking to the side of the tub as his hands lifted from Illya's shoulders like he was singed. "I'm sorry," he said then uncertainly, though he had this usual little smile whenever he's trying to make light of a serious situation, moving to draw away from Illya, "I'll understand if you'd want a transfer. I just thought ---"

And Illya knew he was doomed.

He grabbed this impossible American's face even before he could completely lift himself off the tub, pulled off those ugly glasses to let it clatter down the floor, and surged up to smash his lips against the other's. He was completely conscious of this now, as he could feel that the other man's weight had slipped down against him off-balanced and splashing even more water around. A muffled sound from Solo he felt vibrate through him, making him curl his fingers even tighter at those wavy dark locks.

Kissing Solo... it really felt different from kissing a girl. Not that he has much experience in that area either. This... this felt like something he could do forever.

If it was the first and last time that he was going to do this, however, while they were still both momentarily crazy and not thinking of the consequences, sadly, Illya thought this is still enough.

Solo was a complicated combination of firm and soft, finesse and rawness, and burning so hotly against him even through those soaked clothes that his fingers sought more of that warmth even when his need to breathe came too soon, his lips ending up sliding to the side of Solo's face, panting hard to get back to his bearings.

"Peril... I swear... if you stop now..." Solo sounded so wrecked against his ear, as his own hands swept Illya's torso greedily, leaving fire and goosebumps that made Illya shiver. He dully wondered how Solo could even think that when he had practically dragged him along for the ride by just sounding like _that_ , when he found his hands had crept up under Solo's shirt as well. Solo then bit gently at his earlobe, sucking, causing Illya's hands to jerk in surprise and popping off some buttons in the process.

Solo huffed a breath of air that sounds suspiciously like a broken off chuckle, and had proceeded unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as he nibbled at the skin just below the side of Illya's jaw. Illya's breath hitched, one hand sliding up to lightly grip at the short strands of hair at Solo's nape, as if it couldn't decide where to pull away or pull closer that source of tingling pleasure. His other hand reflexively clawing at Solo's lower back, suddenly unsure of what to do at this situation.

Their actions seem to bring Solo even closer against Illya that the other man was practically straddling his lap, and he can't help but let out a groan as Solo ground his own hardness against his.

His partner was so deliciously warm against him that it made him feel so greedy, yearn even more than the rubbing against wet cloth. He didn't even know if Solo would allow him, but the way Solo was wantonly grinding against him and as greedily mapping his skin with tongue and teeth, he figured he may as well take what he can from what is happening. His fingers found themselves hovering close to Solo's --- his' --- belt buckle, before throwing caution to the wind and swiftly unlatching it. He could feel from his knuckles how hard Solo similarly is through his pants, and the other man seemed to shudder in relief as he proceeded to unzip and reach into his briefs.

Illya's face flushed at the feel of Solo's length, at this foreign sensation of holding another man. He pressed his face against Solo's shoulder, willing himself to be less embarrassed about it as he concentrated on the feeling, his hand slowly pumping from the base to the tip the way he usually does on his own, like trying to familiarize how himself with the difference in the girth and length, with how hard and heavy and wanting Solo is.

Solo swore above him, and the length in his hand seemed to twitch as he felt the man try to move his hips, seeking more friction. It made him feel heady, how he could make Solo react like this, and he gasped as he felt Solo's hand seem to take revenge by grasping him in turn, going maddeningly slower than how he was doing it at the moment.

"Solo," he gritted out in warning against the other man's shoulder, self-control teetering on the edge.

His partner just moaned against him, hips still bucking. "Illya... I need..." Solo seemed to arch and press against his hand that found purchase in gripping at his ass cheek to pull him even closer, and Illya instinctively realizes what Solo wants.

It's as if his face couldn't even burn any more than it already is, but knowing what he has to do as it's almost the same concept as with a woman anyway, he still proceeded with inching his hand to the cleft of Solo's behind, slipping his fingers in between to brush and press against his hole. He feels another full body shudder against him, Solo pressing back as if to encourage him.

And he did, his middle finger massaging firmly against the slight mound before slowly breaching, trusting the soapy water of the bath to ease it in.

Solo hissed, his hands gripping tighter at Illya's shoulders as the finger pressed further. The American was impossibly tight, and even without words he could feel his partner was tense, that body impulsively putting up a resistance even if Solo tried to flare his legs further apart to accomodate him. He reluctantly withdrew his finger before he could even go halfway, and the American whimpered in protest.

He blindly reached for that bottle of bath gel he used earlier, quickly dumping a generous amount into his palm to slather his fingers in, keeping his fingers into a fist as he dunked it back into the water hoping it wouldn't dissolve much of it away. He rubbed two of his coated fingers around and over that hole for a moment before slowly pushing one in again, and this one slightly went in easier. He proceeded with a back and forth motion, introducing his finger further in each time, until he pushed up to the knuckle and withdrew to slowly push in the second finger as well.

He could feel Solo breathing shallowly at his ear, the way he does when he's trying to relax, and Illya gave in to the temptation of nibbling at his partner's neck to further distract him, eyes closing as he scented the expensive perfume still clinging warmly at his partner's skin. This seemed to work, as eventually Solo was pressing down into his fingers to meet him. This encouraged him to slip in a third finger, finding himself biting a little harder at how Solo clenched around his digits.

His fingers continued with the measured movements, Solo pushing down with him in stride as he took up with burying his face and just panting hotly at the junction of Illya's neck and shoulder. Until at that one point that he felt another full-bodied jolt and another curse from the American, and the way he slightly rearranged himself against Illya so that his fingers seemed to hit a spot in him that made Illya hear even more half-unchecked moans.

"Wait... wait... stop..." Solo then gasped, and Illya was quite startled that he tore his fingers out too fast that Solo seemed to buck sharply in pain. "No --- fucking shit --- I didn't mean ---"

"What?" Illya demanded, and Solo did some complicated move underwater that he now felt a much bare thigh brush against his, and a hand gripping at his length that he felt is now brushing against something not quite yielding...

Illya's eyes widened, and his hands quickly shot out to hold Solo's waist in place as he realized what it is, ignoring the American's frustrated groan. "We don't have to do this," he gritted, his heart soundly pounding anew.

Solo's face was a mix of irritation and frustration as he glared down at Illya. "You've just had your fingers in me and you're backing out _now_?" he hissed a bit incredulously, and the whole thing would have been offending and scandalizing if it weren't so incongruous with how Solo looked so undone. Illya found himself entranced, looking at his partner's swollen lips down to the slight valley at his chin, down to well-defined shoulders leading to perfectly muscular arms and heaving pectorals with a fine spattering of water-matted chest hair. Which all just reminds Illya that this is actually a _man_ that he is doing these normally unthinkable things with.

But this was _Solo_. He doesn't even know why he's not too bothered, when he's usually incensed when it's another man who attempts to touch him intimately. In fact, he was just aching to try biting again at that firm-looking skin.

"Illya." It seemed that Solo was actually talking to him, and he blinked from his contemplation to look back at his partner. "You know I don't really want to stop, but if you really don't want to..."

"...I do not think I will fit." Now saying that somehow felt so embarrassing.

Solo just made some non-committal sound, and Illya all but choked when he felt himself being slowly sheathed into some tight, unrelenting grip.

That seemed to go on for such a long, agonizing moment until he felt Solo stop and it felt like they were all too closely pressed against each other in a lot of places. He only remembered to breathe and open his eyes (he had not even remembered closing them) when he felt Solo's quivering fingers trace at his lower lip, before bending to give a feverish kiss at the edge of his mouth. It all felt so deliciously _tight_ down there, pressing so snugly all around him, until the pressure changed when Solo slowly lifted himself up, bracing himself with one hand gripping tight at Illya's shoulder.

As partners in missions, oftentimes they never really needed to speak to proceed with an action, and Illya would just automatically follow Solo like clockwork wherever he goes if he has to, and that would also go vice versa. So at that moment Solo had chosen to elevate, Illya felt he had no choice but to also go _up_.

Solo bit back a moan at this, like he did not really expect it, and he came back down faster over Illya's cock than he intended to, which extracts a moan from Illya in return.

For a while they just slowly rocked into each other, stirring gentle waves into the water as hands and lips moved languidly over each other's skin, exploring, just trying to get more comfortable joined up like that, getting drunk in warmth and sensation. Until their fucking began to sound more lewdly and more pronounced over the splashes of water, as Illya seemed to hit something again in Solo that made him gasp louder and squeeze his eyes shut, his fingers digging even more painfully at Illya's skin as their movements took a somewhat frenzied, desperate turn.

"Faster.. sh..shit.." Solo panted at his ear, and Illya swore, feeling his cock jerk at the sound of it and almost letting go. Cursing that the tub is indeed too slippery, he worked with as much little leverage as he can as he planted his feet by the sides of the tub and just pounded hard up into Solo as Solo impaled himself as hard down into his cock, displacing even more buckets of water out of the tub.

"Illya... Illya..." And it was carnal, it was brutal, and it was _beautiful_ as it was one well-placed sharp thrust that he felt the American tense up and shake and muffle a shout into his hair, coming hard against Illya's abs, dragging Illya abruptly into his own orgasm as Solo's walls squeezed even tighter around him.

For a while they just slumped there, Solo breathing hard into Illya's neck as Illya does into Solo's hair. Then Solo slipped gingerly a bit to the side, slipping Illya's length out of him with a wince, freeing up Illya's legs a bit to allow circulation again.

"Now I'm truly fucked out," he mumbled against Illya's shoulder, eyes still closed. Illya had the sudden urge to trace his fingers over that currently benign-looking face.

Instead he kicks one foot out to the stopper plug to let the bathwater drain, and turned on the showerhead lying at the bottom of the tub to rinse the rest of the soap away. As everything drained down and Solo shifted to get away from the cold water he saw the rest of Solo's body revealed, what are starting to become bruises on Solo's hips and waist and one leg still encased in pants while the other bare and still sprawled over Illya's.

"Don't sleep here," Illya muttered, though honestly he didn't want to move from the tub either.

Solo seemed to decide for them after a moment, taking the showerhand and quickly rinsing them both with sleepy eyes. Illya clenched his jaw at how cold the water really is, and stood up dragging Solo with him when he felt sufficiently rinsed. Solo pliantly let himself get dragged, stepping out of the rest of the pants, and didn't even protest when Illya briskly toweled him off.

Illya was just about to start getting concerned when Solo eventually broke away from him and seemed to limp the rest of the way into his bedroom to flop unceremoniously facedown his bed, still carelessly nude. Illya reddened at the sight, somehow still not used to it, and once he finished drying himself he walked over to the bed to pull the covers over Solo.

Solo, for such a weary man, managed to roll to his back and pull Illya down by his arm even before he could get completely covered up, making Illya haphazardly lie half over him and the sheets.

"So that's what that means," Solo finally said after a huge yawn, looking up at him with tired eyes and a soft smile on his lips.

It took almost half a minute before that actually registered in Illya's mind, distracted as he is by those shiny plush lips infront of him he is craving to nibble at again. "So you are... just testing me?" he asked warily, though he was really dreading to hear the possible answer.

Solo shook his head. "No, no. It's just... all those looks you were giving me. It felt like... like you were really looking at _me_." He smiled ruefully. "Confusing, isn't it? Is it..." He looked uncertain again. "Am I wrong?"

Illya wanted to kiss the other spy's lips to wipe that expression he really didn't like on the other's face. And he hated admitting, "No. I am the one confused. I do not know what this all is either."

"But you know that you miss me." Solo laughed at the red flush that crept up Illya's cheeks at that. Gaby must have told Solo things that were probably exaggerated. "I guess that is enough for me."

"What 'I guess'? You doubt me?" Illya frowned. Suddenly it felt like he shouldn't have said he's confused. He is, as he couldn't still name whatever this need he had for Solo, but he does know that he didn't want to give him any mixed signals.

It's Solo. It has always been Solo. He sees it now more clearly. Maybe it had always been since Istanbul. Or maybe even since Rome. It's as strong as that initial hate he felt for Solo when he took a jab at his mother's 'status'.

"I'd like to think you are sincere, Peril. If there is someone to doubt, it should be me. Considering my reputation and all." Solo yawned again. "You do know the reason why I'm like the face of our trio, right? So that I could attract attention to myself, and not to you two. You can do the job properly, while I'm just dispensable. This is why I don't really do disguises." He absently pushes back up some more strands of matted hair off Illya's forehead. "But for a change, somebody is actually looking for me now, and for that I'm really touched. So, thank you."

"No," Illya said bluntly, causing the other man to blink slowly at that. He gripped at Solo's chin, making Solo focus more despite his exhaustion, quite furious to see that for someone who is blatantly narcissistic and desired by everyone, Solo actually has a bone-deep loneliness and general disregard for his own life in terms of missions.

But then that must be what attracted him to Solo in the first place. That independent, single-minded drive. The strange unselfishness when he is made to work within a partnership. Solo would rather take the bullet for any of them, would go out of his way to retrieve for them even something mundane like his father's watch --- something Illya is still never used to and would probably never get used to. It's like a strange light that he doesn't understand, but draws him in from the icy cold darkness that is his life.

He is very much in trouble. He has dangerously, helplessly fallen far too deep for this man.

"I really do not know how to say this without inflating your already inflated ego, but do not think you are unimportant. You are wanted, and is not just for what you could do," he told Solo. "As spies, we are dispensable, but you cannot just run around thinking you can do everything on your own."

"I guess I shouldn't be the only one taking that advice," Solo scoffed. Then he smirks, eyes closing. "And besides, I _do_ think I'm important."

Illya tugged at his hair warningly. "You know what I mean."

"I know." Solo opened half-lidded eyes again. "God, you're so cute, you make me want you more."

"I'm not cute," Illya muttered.

"The way you want me is so cute." Solo's hand lifted to slide over the big hand he still had curled around his jaw, slipping down slowly to idly stroke that fluttering pulse at his wrist. "You can do anything you want with me, you know."

Illya's heart skipped a beat at that. "Is never good to offer more than you can give, Cowboy."

Solo smiled lazily, closing his eyes again. "I'd like to think I'd want to take as much as _you_ can give. Just you wait when I get my energy back and all."

Illya flushed at this, as he felt himself stirring again. "I'm not a plaything," he managed to say gruffly after a while.

He had not really wanted to say that, for there lies the problem, and what must be the initial light to that compulsion in him he still couldn't --- or dare to ---- name. This was also a self-confessed womanizer before him, and for all he knows he's just setting himself up for heartbreak.

Solo opened his eyes then, and Illya could see then the effort to be focused at him, to let him know his sincerity despite his exhaustion. And Illya could feel his heart sink a little more, like an iceberg melting, deeper into the waters of this impossible, annoying man.

Maybe it doesn't really matter if he doesn't know what to call this thing he had with Solo. Just as long as he'll always look at him like he does now.

"You never will be, Illya." He slid a hand up to Illya's nape to pull him closer, murmur at his lips, "You never were."

Illya rewarded him with a kiss.


End file.
